Cross Roads
by just-a-shadow-of-death
Summary: Keller is back and Neal has nothing to give. What happens when Neal is forced to steal a painting just because Keller asked him to. Keller/Neal Character study.
1. Chapter 1

It was announced today that Keller had escaped prison and fled Russia, though the fact had been proved for a week now. Neal creased his brows and looked around the table. An entire week of hush talk and silent stares that had been thrown between Peter and Diana should have been his first clue to something suspicious going on, but him being scheduled for so much work and caught up with his future heist plans, he hadn't bothered checking up on anything.

Neal moistened his lips and gathered himself, Peter was staring at him, Diana and Jones almost looked like they cared. "Neal, I would have told you earlier but, with work and all," Peter gave a reassuring look, "we have an eye out for him, if he comes after you-"

"Why would he come after me?" Neal said, his voice almost chocking with the sinking feeling his body was heading towards. Last time Keller could have beaten him to death, he still remembered the robust blow he had received with the make belief weapon. His back had been soar for weeks, but that had been nothing compared to the times and how fond Keller was of waving a gun around him.

"I'm sorry, we should have-"

"Peter, don't." Neal cut him off, giving a chortle to force believe the three people in the room that he wasn't worried. "Let's continue with our work." He changed the subject.

Diana and Jones agreed, both audibly sighing and assuring Peter that everything was alright. Peter looked between the two agents and then at Neal, who looked out the window, adrift with his thoughts. It should have been guilt that boiled his blood but it wasn't, it was actual fear and thought of what would happen to Neal if Keller showed up again. Keller was one for revenge and he being captured and thrown to prison was Neal's fault, even if not to the fullest, Neal was becoming aware.

Today's assignment was attached to an old painting that had been stolen from a young girl's apartment. An Italian painting, painted in 1983, not that old but very dear to the girl who had been robbed. The painting was 8 by 10 inches and burned from the bottom, it held a picture of a boat and a couple in it. The painting was worth almost $250,000. Enough money to be robbed over and almost killed.

It wasn't who the painting was painted by but what the painting held that added the value to the piece and a few people already fell into place. Peter and Neal worked out a plan and went with it, careful in every way to watch their backs and report to each other whenever possible.

They interrogated a few people that were possible robbers and filled paper works. Neal went to his desk and went online, hoping to get a few more info on the painting that had been stolen, he can admit that for once he was lost, he didn't know the painting and hadn't know of his existence either.

After searching for a while, his stomach just couldn't handle the possibility and understand how Keller could possibly escape, not that it was hard for Keller to run, and he had always been the best. His curiosity took the best of him as he closed the tab with the painting and opened up a new one, searching Mathew Keller up.

Four dead and eleven injured. Neal almost sank in his seat, he didn't care to read the entire article about how Keller could have escaped but it seemed like he had stolen a jet, killed some passengers and forced the pilot to take him to an island while the plane had crashed, injuring civilians. Just for an escape, Keller could think of so many possibilities. There was no info on how the actual prison break had happened, the Russians hadn't made a public knowledge of it, but if was public that Keller was free.

"Neal."

Startled, he looked up. Peter was standing in front of him and staring. He must have jumped high and really been shook because Peter was worried and he didn't look happy. "Everything alright?" he asked.

Neal wiped his forehead with his palm and nodded. "Sorry, Peter. I was busy looking up the painting." He said.

"Are you worried about Keller?"

"No." Neal said almost forcing himself not to shout, "No, I'm not he said." Giving Peter and intense stare down.

"It's alright." Peter slapped him on the shoulder. "It's getting late. I'm getting my jacket, why don't you gather yourself and I'll give you a ride." Peter added. Moving around the table and placing a folder on Diana's desk. "Come on." He said when Neal hadn't budged from his seat.

Neal sighed heavily. He watched as Peter went up to his office and get his stuff, he too stood up, wore his jacket and hat and waited. _Keller, Keller, Keller_, just as he was about to get a steady life and no threat was being poised on him, Keller had to escape. He rolled his eyes and leaned on his desk. He wasn't frightened but he was worried, Keller always wanted something, if Keller were to come after him again, he'd be wanting something and Neal was afraid he didn't have anything to give. He was screwed.

"Come on." Peter said. Opening the glassy oversize doors and letting Neal pass first. "Are you worried?" Again, Peter asked, making small talk.

"Not really." Getting into the elevator, they had a small conversation about their recent painting but Neal for once didn't feel like talking.

"Make sure you come to work on time tomorrow." Peter called out.

"If only I got paid, I'd come extra early." Neal teased, slapping the door and leaning on the window sill. Peter forcefully removed Neal's arm when he realized what Neal was asking for.

"Oh, no no." He waved his finger around, "I'm not paying you." He laughed.

"Then I won't promise you anything." Neal said, backing away from the car and going up the stairs that lead to June's house. "Later."

"I'll call you when I get home," Peter said, slowly driving the car away, "Just for security measures."

Neal smiled and waved.

"Mozzie, how many times have I told you to lock the door." An exasperated Neal threw his hat on the table and unbuttoned his shirt.

"You never complained before." The shorter man came inside from the balcony.

"I always tell you to lock the door, what if someone else had come in."

"Like who?" Mozzie asked, sipping wine and walking sluggishly towards Neal.

"Are you drunk?" Neal asked. Mozzie looked like he was about to fall over and Neal shook his head. "You-" he pointed towards Mozzie, "aren't sleeping in my bed again. Have fun on the couch."

Mozzie whined, "But my back hurts, you know that."

Neal locked the door behind him and helped Mozzie sit on the couch. He took the wine glass away from the shorter man's hand and forced the man to lie down. "I want to talk to you about something, but I'm taking a shower first." He placed the glass on the table. "No drinking and no leaving the house." He said, going over to his bed and throwing the extra pillow to Mozzie.

"What do you want to talk about?" Mozzie lay down on his make belief bed and lazily stirred.

"Keller. He is back." Neal said. Mozzie sat straight up, not sure if he had heard that right.

"What?" He asked.

"Later." Neal said, "Later."


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't believe this. How is this possible? Why is this happening?"

'_Was it morning? It must be morning.'_ Hearing Mozzie whine and walk around heavily, those loud thudding sounds he was making, it was definitely morning. Neal stirred in bed, moved from his opposite side and smashed a pillow to his ear. Every time Mozzie stayed over at his apartment, he always got a rude awakening.

"Why would you do this?" he asked.

Neal leant in his ear, loosening the pillow that was smashed on his ear. It seemed like Mozzie was talking to someone.

"Look, I said I was sorry."

The young con man rubbed his eyes and looked towards his fused living room. There was Peter, standing in his living room with a very gloomy looking Mozzie, arguing over something. He threw the pillow away and sat in his bed, "Morning." He said, alerting the two intruders that he was also in the room, and that he might have been sleeping before their loud argument had started.

"Morning," Peter replied, a relief forming in his eyes.

"Look what he did," Mozzie walked towards the door, "He broke the knob and the upper hinges." Pointing towards the said door, with its shattered wood pieces sticking out.

Neal wrapped his night gown and gave it a knot along his waist, folding his arms around his chest and walked towards his door. "You broke the door?" Neal said in amusement. "Why?" he asked.

"I said I'd call last night. No one was picking up the phone and I thought I'd check up on you." Peter blurted.

"You were worried about me." Neal said slyly. "I never would have thought Peter, FBI agent."

"Oh, No." Peter raised a hand to stop Neal from continuing any further. "I was not worried. You are under my authority, if something happened because of _him_. Then I'm the one in trouble."

Neal picked the coffee mug that was on the table, "How did you get in the house?"

"June let me in, and she was also worried about you so-"

"So, you admit you were worried?" Again, Neal pestered Peter into admitting he was worried but Peter didn't let his slip take him down.

"Alright" Peter slapped his hands together, officially changing the subject. "Its 10:30 and you are very late to work."

"I was tired; you know how late I worked last night." He shrugged his shoulders and turned away from the two.

"I went home the same time as you, maybe later. You don't see me being tired. Neal, this can't go on."

Neal looked at Peter sternly, "I'm not an FBI agent. I'm not you, so I can't come to work early everyday like you." He took a sip of his coffee, "I was working late at home." Neal gave a straight answer after realizing he had just blurted something bad towards Peter. He honestly didn't want to be on Peter's bad side, not with a certain someone coming back around.

"Yes, he was." Mozzie, faithful as always verified his story, even though it wasn't true. Truth was, after Neal had taken a shower, he hadn't bothered with his Keller story. Mozzie was fast asleep and he himself was too tired to wake his friend up. Both of them had spent a careless night away, Neal hadn't even waited for the call Peter had promised, thus the break-in had occurred.

"Neal, I can't keep asking you to come on time. It's becoming a habit, the past few weeks have been ridicules and I can't keep ignoring this."

"I'm sorry, Peter." Neal looked towards Mozzie, "You won't see me being late ever again." He gave Peter a false hope. "I was busy with the painting and I was worried-"

Peter caught on with the exasperated lie Neal was throwing, "Alright, Neal. That's enough. Why don't you get dressed and come down, I'll be waiting."

As Peter left, Mozzie gave him the evil eye, "Don't forget to fix the door." And he slammed the _almost_ broken door after him, forcing more wood to fly out of the door. He widened his eyes and looked towards Neal. "Is he here in New York?"

"He's out of prison. Not sure if he is here in New York." He fixed the coffee mug on the table and looked at Mozzie with anxious eyes. "Mozzie you know what this means right?"

Mozzie was clever, he always knew what to do when what was going wrong. "Of course. If he is back, he will come after us and without anything to give him, we are screwed." Mozzie pinched his chin, "we should leave the country and -"

"No." Neal cut him off, "Now, Mozzie, I know you are smart enough to come up with a better plan and when I come back from work, you will share your brilliant idea with me." He squeezed both of Mozzie's shoulders and went to his closet to pick out his suit, "and I know you'll make it a good one too."

Peter continued on with his interrogation with the many suspects he had gathered from the painting stolen and it was keeping him busy. Neal was stuck with some paper work that he could have finished an hour ago if he wanted. Instead he had been throwing the ball around, trying to have a chat with Jones or Diana, both of whom didn't want to be disturbed.

He had already tried looking more into Keller's escape but with little to no info, he was out of ideas. He and Mozzie were texting each other finding out more news on Keller, but that seemed to be limited too. Keller was a ghost; he couldn't be seen but would soon make his presence clear. Neal cursed at himself for even thinking that Keller would stay put in jail for more than a year. It had been four months and Keller was already out.

"Neal." Peter gave him the two fingers and motioned him to come up. He slumped his shoulders and walked upstairs, _'did he seriously have to stay and listen to the interviews as well?'_

The suspects were your average offenders but none of them struck as the thief who had stolen the painting. "Maybe we should go back to the house and look around the neighborhood," he had suggested but Peter had thrown that idea away. So, now here they were, going over zero evidence to prove who stole the painting.

"How do we know if it's really worth that much money?" Diana asked and Peter gave her an insurance paper.

"That's how much the painting is insured for and" Peter raised his finger to add more "it was insured just a week ago."

"Well, then" Jones said, "Seems to me like it's just an ordinary insurance fraud some people make for cheap money."

Neal actually agreed with what Jones suggested, the girl didn't seem that bothered or outraged with the stolen painting, she seemed like she knew more then what she was actually saying, but to proof the painting wasn't stolen and find the so called missing painting would do good for him anyway. It was an easy solve, if only Peter let him go on his own, he'd be done with it already. But no, Peter wanted to keep an eye on him and now that Keller was back, there was no escaping him.

Again, Peter had offered Neal a ride home. A proposal he knew he couldn't refuse.

"Don't be late to work in the morning and I'll be calling you." Peter promised and Neal made a face. _'Great'_ he thought.

The door was fixed and he was glad the door was locked too. Finally, Mozzie had done something right, he knocked the door and Mozzie let him in. If possible, Mozzie looked even more compulsive then his regular behavior.

"I have decided to stay here for a while, until the Keller business is done." Mozzie sat on the sofa, he appeared uncomfortable.

"We don't even know if Keller is in New York. You shouldn't be that-"

"He is in New York, he is living in Flushing, Queens and he was seen looking for some muscle men." Mozzie blurted out, not keeping an eye contact with Neal.

Neal stared in disbelief, "How long?"

"I got a call just an hour ago from one of my 'friends', Keller's been in New York for three days, rumor has it he's out here for some rare jewels and revenge." Mozzie rubbed his fingers furiously towards each other. "We should leave."

"Mozzie, you know I can't do that." Neal swallowed hard. "We need a plan just in case."

"I have one." Mozzie suggested, "Either we should leave-"

"No." Neal cut in, disagreeing with him.

"Or," Mozzie continued, "If Keller does come after us, we should give something to him." He looked up slowly at Neal, giving him a look. "We should give him something he wants."

"We have nothing." Neal said.

"One of your old treasures that you have hidden?"

"That's not in New York." Neal rubbed his back. Again, Mozzie gave him a look.

"There's no other way." Mozzie was right. There wasn't any other way. Neal didn't have a choice; it was either be killed or pay something forward. He took off his hat and sat down next to Mozzie.

"Everything is going to be alright." He reassured his longtime friend.

Mozzie looked at him. "If you say so."

Neal smiled and removed his suit jacket. "Alright, I'm taking a shower, if Peter calls, tell him everything's fine." Mozzie gave a weak nod and Neal disappeared into the bathroom, consuming himself in his thoughts and letting the time pass by.

He came out of the shower a few minutes later, the lights were closed and it seemed like Mozzie was all ready to sleep. Remembering that tomorrow he really had to try and be on time to work, he pulled on an open shirt and slumped into bed. These days, upsetting Peter was as bad as not getting an actual heist done right.

"Neal," he heard Mozzie.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Neal." Again, Mozzie said but this time he heard the man with a frightening tone. Neal slowly looked towards the sofa and hindered himself from thinking an irrational thought. Something was wrong and Neal didn't want to know what it was.

"What is it, Mozzie?" he said with an equally frightening tone. His eyes were already adjusted to the darkness and he could see another man towering over Mozzie. Neal whispered, "Keller."


End file.
